


Show and Tell

by gulkote



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, M/M, Robot/Human Relationships, Sappy, communication is my kink, dial up noise, robot guts, robot intimacy isn't like human intimacy, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-06-07 11:23:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15218096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gulkote/pseuds/gulkote
Summary: Wait a minute.“Are you telling me that every time Markus and North hold hands they’re making out?”Connor takes a full 5 seconds before he answers, “Probably not? Maybe 30% of the time. Of equivalent intimacy of making out, I suppose.”-hi i dont think robot intimacy is the same as human intimacy and i want to look into that





	1. Tell

**Author's Note:**

> so if you've read any transformers fanfic, a lot of you know where i'm going with this (interfacing!)  
> i dont think robot intimacy is the same as human intimacy and there are limitations on both sides that would affect a relationship  
> AND AGAIN:  
> there isn't explicit sex, but there will be robot parts and innards described next chapter in heavy detail

 

Hank’s curious enough to ask about it when him and Connor are “engaging in physical relaxation and intimacy” (cuddling on the couch) while watching TV (a nature documentary, also Connor’s choice). Hank's lying on the couch, and Connor has draped himself on top, head placed on Hank's chest. One of Connor's hands is tucked near his face, skin pulled back to his wrist, exposing white. Soft blue lights at the fingertips.

“Why do you keep doing that with your hands?”

The skin quickly smooths back up and over the exposed white. “Doing what with my hands?” Is the perfectly neutral response, but Hank doesn't need to see Connor's LED to know that it probably went yellow. He rolls his eyes and pulls Connor's hand out from under his face.

“You keep pulling the skin off your hands. I've seen you do it before. What's the deal.” Hank gives the hand a gentle squeeze. “I'm just curious,” he adds on. Connor can get weird about explaining any of his habits since his deviancy. He's still brutally honest about most things, but there are a few subjects he gets squirrely on.

“I'm just,” Connor says slowly, turning to face Hank. “Trying to find the easiest way I can explain.” Hank double checks, and yep, there's the little yellow offender, spinning away.

Connor opens with, “Androids can share basic information through channels. Like when you call or text someone on your phone.” There’s a pause for him to check if Hank is following this train of thought. “But we can share more through contact. I suppose you could say it’s similar to...transferring information. But you can choose what to send. At Eden Club I requested the memories of the past 2 hours with the androids there. You could feasibly get more than that. Mental processes, system diagnostics for both software and physical functions, uploading and sending files. Depending on how much you want shared you would have to let down a lot of firewalls and security ports to do so.”

Hank looks from Connor’s face to the hand he’s holding. It slowly turns back to colourless, soft blue ringing the joints. Oh _hell_.

“You do not want to be in my brain and know what I’m thinking. It’s a mess up there,” Hank sighs down at the face on his chest. “I supposed the rest of me isn’t that stellar either,” He frowns at Connor’s lack of facial expression. The bullshit circle is still yellow. “Where did an old fart like me get someone as sweet as you, huh?”

“You’re not an old fart,” Connor starts, and Hank sourly cuts him off, “Yeah, yeah, I’m in a solid state and not a gaseous one, you big damn nerd.” Connor returns his cheek to Hanks chest, smiling, yellow LED back to blue. He doesn’t let go of their hands.

Hank knew about the file sharing (The briefly embarrassing and very expensive Eden Club fiasco) and seeing Markus pull back his own skin to awaken deviancy in other androids made a bit more sense now. If the deviancy was almost like a virus, then technically other androids could spread it too. If it was just a regular old file or whatever. But learning you had to let down firewalls was new. Maybe the androids had to _want_ deviancy for the whole thing to work. _Depending on how much you wanted to share_ ….wait a second.

“Are you telling me that every time Markus and North hold hands they’re making out?”

Connor takes a full 5 seconds before he answers, “Probably not? Maybe 30% of the time. Of equivalent intimacy of making out, I suppose.”

“Kids these days with their high-tech public displays of affection…” is what Hank grumbles out instead. “I still remember the fucking dial-up noise.” He starts to rub slow circles into Connor’s shoulders with his knuckles, just so Connor knows he is the opposite of mad about it. Hank hates being such a big fucking sap sometimes. He had the whole “old crotchety man” schtick down pat until Connor and his goofy face came into his life. Just another way androids are still dicking around with his life.

The answer from Connor is a slight squeeze this his hand. Hank thinks about the bare bone hand in his. His own hand seems inadequate in comparison.

“Connor,” Hank’s careful about speaking, but he can’t help but start to feel a little nervous. He already knows the answer. He feels a little guilty, because he knows that Connor’s little colour wheel is going to go right to red. But he can’t constantly rely on actions to keep sending messages across. He returns the squeeze on Connor’s hand, “Do you wish we could?”

If Connor could get any more still, he probably would. Hank forces himself to keep rubbing Connor’s back. He needs to hear it, he needs to let him know.

Connor blinks exactly 3 times. And very softly, almost a whisper, “Yes, occasionally.” The words, _this is not enough_ , aren’t spoken. The words, _these are your limitations_ , aren’t spoken.

“Well, too bad, I’m a bag of bones.” Hank’s voice is almost too abrasive after Connor’s confession. “You’ll just have to find something I _can do_ that means the same thing to you.” Hank gives Connor’s shoulder a little slap. “Let me know what you want from me,” he plants a kiss into Connor’s hair, an afterthought.

  
Hank knows he’s in the green (blue) when Connor tries to wiggle closer to his face and under his chin. “I’ll let you know when I think of something Hank. I also want you to know, I _do_ like the cuddling.”


	2. Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor asks Hank to touch his stomach full of crimes, I mean, internal biocomponents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY, heads up, I changed the rating on this. I was trying not to make it sexually explicit in any way, and I was struggling to keep it Teen rated. I did manage to avoid sexual content, but, I also would advise you not read this with your parents present lol.... I think this is also still in the Ace-friendly zone, but every ace person has a different tolerance! Some things of note happen and I'll list here so you can decide if you want to go ahead and read it still:
> 
> -undressing (I say undressing instead of stripping, because that's the difference)  
> -I have a ken-doll connor here, and it's mentioned  
> -lots of robot guts  
> -connor does make beeps/tones/static but doesn't mimic human moans  
> -1 kiss, briefly, for Romance,  
> -Probably 3 misspellings of thirium
> 
> happy reading!

Two weeks go by before Connor brings the topic up again. It’s Friday night. Work is done, and for once in their life they are not on call, so the weekend is theirs. Connor helped make spaghetti, he was very proud of himself that nothing caught on fire this time. It also tastes delicious.

Hank is about to haul himself back to the couch, but Connor catches his fingers on his arm. Connor’s voice is very soft when he says, “Hank.” Hank stops mid turn, expectant. “Do you remember the conversation we had two weeks ago?” He watches Connor’s skin pull back to bone white.

“Ah yes, hand makeouts.” Hank knows calling it that will annoy Connor.

“No, not hand makeouts.” The side of Connor’s mouth ticks upwards. A smile is a smile. “Equivalent intimacy of interfacing.”

Hank laces his stubby fingers into Connor’s white ones. “Found something you’d like?”

Connor looks a little antsy (standing very still, only his eyes moving), “I may have, yes.”

His LED is blue, so it must be a good sign.

“Ok, hit me, what do you got?”

“I would like you…” He looks like he’s editing himself. Hank’s about to say _it’s fine, you can ask me_ literally _anything,_ but Connor finishes his sentence in a rush.

“I would like you to touch my internal biocomponents.”

Connor is staring at Hank, eyes roaming over his face, fingers in his hand unmoving. _He’s analyzing the shit outta me. Say something, you big oaf_.

“Ok,” is what comes out of Hank’s mouth instead. _Nailed it_.

Thank god Connor provides some elaboration. “Remember how I said that sometimes androids can share physical processes? This is … the physical process.”

Hank figures, _hey, this is fine,_ but he guesses he didn't answer fast enough, cause Connor is still kinda rambling.

“So I did a lot of compare and contrast, and a a great deal of research into human sexual play and kinks, and-”

_Of course he put an absurd amount of googling into this, why wouldn’t he?_

“-I think having you being able to touch and feel all the physical parts that make up my model is appealing to me on various levels. There are a lot of interior parts that are very sensitive and need to be handled with care, but I trust you not to endanger me in any way, and I know my outer skin layer does not offer the sensitivity levels a normal human has, but my interior components are rigged so that when something foreign is near them they will activate, mostly so that the object can be located and removed, but in this case they would be able to feel where your hands are, also-”

Hank just puts his hand over Connor’s mouth. Waits patiently for him to meet his eyes.

“Con. You want me to feel up your guts. Yeah?”

Connor nods.

“Then I’m gonna.”

Hank can feel Connor’s lips stretch out into a smile. He moves his hand across Connor’s cheek, to the back of of his neck, and through his hair. Connor leans into it, LED is spinning back to blue.

“Do you wanna do this now?”

Connor answers with a smile and a hum. “I would like that very much.”

 

**xxx**

 

In the bedroom, Connor starts taking off his clothes and folding them neatly. Connor turns to Hank and says matter-of-factly, “Thirium takes quite a while to wash out of clothes, so if you don’t want to have to soak your clothes for a week...”

“This is a hint to me that you’re not going to launder whatever I’m wearing.”

“I would never say that.”

“Uh-huh,” Hank replies, unbuckling his pants. “This is an excuse to have me take off my shirt.”

Connor rolls his socks up and places them on top of his pile, “Where would you get that idea.”

Hank pulls off his shirt and swats Connor’s ass with it. “I’m keeping my boxers.”

“I’m not washing them,” is what Connor insists as he removes his own little briefs. Connor doesn’t even have junk, so Hank is still at a loss why he would bother wearing them. The less laundry Hank has to do in life is very important to him.

Connor lies down on the bed, pushing the pillows back. His skin is pulling back on more than just his hands, it’s gone from his upper thighs to his throat. He looks like he’s wearing one of those old-timey swimsuits.

He’s starting to wiggle his finger into one side of his hip, frowning slightly. “Hank, can you help me for a minute?”

“What do you want me to do?” Hank asks, joining him on the bed and settling in between Connor’s legs.

“I just need you to push up on two depressions, on either sides of my hips.”

Connor guides his hands to the little indents just outside his hip bones. Hank waits for Connor to tell him to push. “Is this a safety feature we’re overriding?”

Connor winks back at him, “This is perfectly safe.” _Of course it is._ Connor then places his own hands to a circular outline on his sternum. “Push up, please.”

There is a snapping noise, and Connor’s whole front splits open.

_Did I break something?_ Is Hank’s first thought, but Connor seems delighted. He quickly wiggles his fingers under the open seam of his ribs and pulls them open.

Hank follow suit and gently opens up the ones by his lower stomach. Connor is full of blue. Hanks runs a hand along the outside of one of his open chest panels. The contrast of the blue and where he’s pulled his skin back to white is honestly quite pretty.

“Hank…?” Connor chews on his lips a bit before asking, “Is everything alright?” Hank’s eyes snap up to Connor’s. His LED has cycled to yellow.

“You look beautiful,” and Hank means every word.

Connor’s answering smile is the sweetest thing Hank has ever seen. “Do you want to know some of the functions?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

Connor reaches down and grabs his hand. Connor holds it over a blue cylinder-ish shape, just visible in the opening above his left hip.

“This is RC-9045-1b, and it helps with movement of my left leg muscles,” Connor recites with clinical clarity. Then he firmly places Hank’s hand on it.

Hank’s first thought is that Connor is. Cooler than anticipated. He’s almost room temperature, if a little warmer. There is a small amount of gel coating the blue synthetic muscle. It’s a little slippery. Hank draws little spirals in it with his finger.

Connor sucks in a breath and squeezes Hank’s arm. Hank can see his robotic lung expand when he does. Hank stops the movement.

“Uh. Are you ok, C-”

Connor interrupts him, words coming out in a rush, “Yes, yes I’m good, please tell me what you’re feeling too.” Connor’s LED is spinning red, and he looks a little embarrassed. _Is that how it is?_

Hank gives him back a slow grin, “Tell me what the gel is for.” He goes back to running his fingers over the spot.

Connor’s voice seems even enough as he replies, “It’s a thirium based lubricant, it also cushions my biocomponents when I move. I wouldn’t advise eating it.”

Hank brings in his other hand and moves them both up to some tubes slightly higher in his abdomen.

Hank wiggles his fingers into the gaps between them. Connor shakily releases a breath and closes his eyes.

Hank gently prompts Connor, “...and these are?”

“They supply thirium down to my legs. One is actually hooked up to my stomach of sorts, KL-89.”

Hank begins to gently part the tubes, searching for Connor’s stomach. “You mean your stomach full of nasty shit you stuff into your mouth from crime scenes?”

“They are _samples_ ,” Connor stresses, guiding Hank’s hand to where his stomach is. It’s really just a apple-sized bag, stuck on the end of a tube. Connor continues his explanation once Hank’s got it in both of his hands.

“I can empty it if it ever gets too full, but with the sample sizes I take it w-”

Connor’s voice dissolves into static when Hank gives it a small squeeze. _This is amazing. What the fuck. He’s actually getting a kick outta this._ Hank rolls the tube connecting the stomach in between his fingers. Connor lets out a grating noise not unlike a floppy disk being read. His LED is flickering red.

“You still good Connor?” Hank has to ask, just to make sure he’s not accidentally misreading the situation.

Connor’s voice sounds a bit distorted, “Please don’t stop.” He takes his hand off Hank’s arm to fist it into the sheets beside him. There is a red mark where Connor had been gripping him.

“I ain’t planning on it,” Hank says as he rolls another tube between his fingers.

“Please keep talking,” he whispers through some static.

_As you wish._

Hank spends a bit more time dragging his hands through the tubes of his abdomen, making sure to tell Connor how soft they felt, which ones were a nice size, which ones were perfect for pinching. He trails his hands up Connor’s splayed ribcage. Hank tells Connor how smooth they feel. He scratches lightly at them as he trails his hands inward.

All the while, Connor is making little beeps, harsh tones, and the occasional burst of static. His LED is a solid red, but this might be a “many things to process” than an mood indicator. Hank pushes his arms deeper past the tubes to feel his carbon fibre spinal column. He taps out little patterns with his fingers to the tune of some love songs.

Getting bolder, Hank moves his hands to Connor’s heart pump. It’s lodged in pretty securely in a hard white casing. It’s in a smaller rib cage-shape of outer panels, and fused to Connor’s spine. It doesn’t appear to be able to open. Hank manages to wiggle a hand inside the bottom opening, so he can hold the pump in both of his hands.

He just holds it for a bit. It’s not really shaped like a heart, and it’s a lot softer than Hank guessed. He’s careful not to disturb the cylinder of the pump regulator. He’s not that stupid. He can feel the heart expand against his hands. He can even feel Connor’s heartbeat pick up speed the longer he holds it.

Hank is just starting to realize what Connor is doing, and what he’s getting out of this. He remembers what Connor told him weeks ago. “...you would have to let down a lot of firewalls and security ports to do so.” Hank first thought that Connor showing off his parts might be him trying to put himself in single pieces. Parts with barcodes and an instruction manual on how it works. But he’s not. Connor is showing him the parts don’t mean shit.

Hank looks at Connor’s face. Connor is still this angle of cheekbone, mouth the same shape, eyes same brown. There are hundreds of the same model that have his face. But none of them will have the way he tilts his head when he asks a question. The fact that now when he wants to hold a pen to free up his hands, he’ll put it in his mouth. The fact that he lit the stove on fire the first time he tried to make spaghetti. He’s both and more.

Hank looks down back at his hands. They are covered in the blue gel. He has been elbow deep in his boyfriend’s guts for the past 15 minutes. Hank could hurt him. He could seriously damage Connor by accident, with all the touching. But Connor had said just said “I trust you not to.”

Hank gives the pump a little squeeze. It takes him a couple tries to find his voice.

“Connor can you look at me?”

Connor looks, breathing hard. His skin has pulled back to expose half of his face, exposing the bright white underneath.

Holding Connor’s robot heart in his hands, Hank very gingerly leans forward, and gives Connor a kiss.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They later find out that popping open Connor like that did break a hinge, so Connor has to duct tape himself shut until he can go to Cyberlife to get it fixed.


End file.
